


Short circuit

by Ungesabi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aikido partners, F/M, Female Sakusa Kiyoomi, Fluff and Smut, Hand Job, Oral Sex, Porn actor Miya Atsumu, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Slight mention of past sex trauma, Squirting, Touch-starved Kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ungesabi/pseuds/Ungesabi
Summary: - I didn't think you were a photography connoisseur -- There are so many things about me that you are not yet aware of - Atsumu winked in her direction, heading towards the stove.Kiyoomi held her breath, suddenly tense.- Like that I’m an excellent cook! -He approached her, handing her a goblet of wine.Kiyoomi sighed, relieved, before bringing her lips to the glass. For a moment she feared Atsumu would reveal his work to her ...- …Or the fact that I work for the porn industry –
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Short circuit

**Author's Note:**

> Please, take a moment to look at this beautiful pic of female Kiyoomi I got inspired by!  
> His twitter: https://twitter.com/RuiLuieRui?s=20
> 
> Here's the link to the pic!  
> https://twitter.com/RuiLuieRui/status/1357612209577201669

If there was one thing that Kiyoomi had learned in all those years of Aikido practice, it was that locker room chatter was not exclusively a male prerogative, quite the contrary.

She buried her hands in the sports bag with enthusiasm, looking for the belt of the kimono, wishing she could sink into it to escape the excited talk in which she had no intention to join.

\- And how was it? -  
Kiyoko leaned over to Yachi, the excited tone evident in the momentary inability to properly fasten the tunic, which hung limp, leaving the pink sports bra uncovered.

\- The best sex of my life. You should have seen his fucking expression, that alone was almost enough to make me have an orgasm -  
The girl pulled her hair into a high ponytail, straightening her lips into a mischievous smile.  
\- Seems like being with an older man has its perks as well -

\- But you just can't think of anything else? -  
Kiyoomi’s voice sounded more acid than she wanted, silencing her training companions, who turned to stare at her in perplexity.

It would have been better if she kept her thoughts to herself; instead, once again, she didn’t manage to bite her tongue. The thing was she didn’t understand the need to talk about sex all the time.

Before the others had time to answer her, she turned and left the locker room, taking her place among the other students.  
After taking a deep breath she knelt on her heels, trying to balance the inner chaos aroused by anger.  
It was never good to start training in that state of mind, she often vented her frustration in the dojo – ending in her being inevitably excluded from the lesson and invited to reflect by the teacher, who poorly tolerated behaviors that undermined the basic principles of martial art.

She had started practicing that discipline precisely because she was interested in controlling her negative energies, but she soon discovered she had so much more to learn, both about Aikido and herself.

However, given her erratic way of dealing with the teachings, now no one wanted to pair up with her anymore, too scared by the idea of becoming human punches.

Nobody but _him_.

She found herself smiling despite everything for that tap on the thigh that had the power to calm her immediately.

She returned the other's nod, spelling a mute ‘ _Miya_ ’ in his direction.  
Atsumu raised an eyebrow upward, his ironic hazel gaze fixed on her.  
Her lip quivered slightly in the excessive effort not to blush like a little girl. Since they'd started training together, she'd found herself embarrassed all too often.

The constant contact with that oversized body - the difference in height and constitution bordered on the absurd - as well as the intrusive exuberance of his companion, had put a strain on her iron self-control.  
And the disconcerting discovery of the other one _job_ , which no one seemed to know about, didn’t help the situation.

She squeezed her thighs together to stop the warmth coiling in her guts.  
She forced herself not to think about the image of Atsumu’s face overwhelmed by pleasure, that sensual jerk of the muscles in the rhythmic jig of his pelvis...

The greeting of the teacher abruptly brought her back to reality, making her feel incredibly inadequate.

She stood up frowning, unable to eliminate that extreme feeling of discomfort.  
She knew that her body's reactions to certain stimuli were normal, and she did not consider her constant recourse to masturbation to vent them unusual; what made her feel different and wrong was that embarrassing propensity to masturbate only on certain type of videos.

\- You seem distant today. Rough day at university? –

Atsumu smiled at her sympathetically, putting in her hand a _tanto_. That day's lesson would be on the different disarmament techniques in dagger attack.  
\- No more than usual –

She positioned herself in front of him, saluting.  
She then weighed the wooden weapon, distributing the weight better on her legs, gripping the tatami with her bare feet; she’d start the attack phase a couple of times and then they would switch roles.

The boy watched with amusement as she attempted to clear her mind to focus exclusively on the Tanto Tori technique.

Although Atsumu was initially baffled to find himself paired with that petite, perpetually pissed-off little girl, he had to change his mind.  
In another martial art their confrontation could have been unequal, in Aikido, a discipline in which the opponent's strength was used to throw him instead of opposing him, this was balanced.

Kiyoomi lunged forward, aiming the dagger at Atsumu’s stomach. With a single fluid gesture of his hand Atsumu grabbed her wrist, moving sideways to her body; always in the wake of the same movement, exploiting the thrust of the initial blow, he pulled her down, unbalancing her.  
Atsumu twisted her wrist and made Kiyoomi fall sideways on the tatami, making Kiyoomi lose the grip on the tanto.  
Atsumu then held out a hand to help her up, which she promptly ignored.

They rehearsed this sequence several times in absolute silence, broken only by the dry thuds of falls and the accelerated breaths given by the effort made.

Kiyoomi lost her concentration several times, distracted by the contact with that sweaty body, which had the power to destroy every barrier erected by her mind in years and years of self-imposed abstinence.  
Not that she had lacked suitors or opportunities to give in to her lowest instincts, but she never shown interest.  
Honestly, that first-time disastrous attempt was enough to make her desist from trying again.

But Atsumu’s compact, muscular body, as well as his warm smile, messed up her hormones in a way she never thought possible.  
Lost in those thoughts, she suddenly found herself with a dagger pointed at her.

\- Yer dead -  
The boy slowly passed the lot along her white throat, to simulate a slaughtering, smiling ferociously.  
Kiyoomi brushed his hand away, bending stiffly to salute him and hurrying in the direction of the locker room.  
She was pissed off at herself for abandoning herself once again to certain thoughts, making a fool of herself in not being able to complete even basic disarmament.

The man was occupying her thoughts too often, obsessing her, and she couldn't forgive herself. Since when did she have to rely on a boy to be satisfied with her life?

She felt someone wrapping her wrist. Atsumu was staring at her in amazement.

\- Everyone gets distracted from time to time. What is yer problem? -  
\- _You_ are my problem -  
She jerked her arm away, her anger partly gone at that hurt look.

_Why does he have to have those lost puppy eyes?_

\- I'm sorry, it's not your fault, it's just I’m under pressure right now -

The boy smiled warmly at her, patting her on the shoulder.

\- You just need to relax a little! How about sitting on the sofa lounging while I prepare you a good dinner? I am a very good cook -  
\- And thus risk poisoning? No thanks -  
\- Come on, don't be precious, it's just a dinner with a friend! And maybe I'll also show you how to disarm someone, since you don't seem to have clue on how to do it –

Kiyoomi burned him with her eyes.  
She found herself reflecting on that invitation: perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to accept, maybe if she saw the disgusting way Atsumu ate or the pigsty that was his home, she could finally stop masturbating on him.

Besides, they'd already been out together, and it hadn't been that bad.  
_Of course_ she did it for this reason, and not for that immense attraction that made her want to be held in those arms.

\- Okay, but be prepared to find yourself with your ass on the ground and sore wrists -  
He smiled mischievously at her statement, making her blush to the tips of her ears.  
\- I did not mean it like that... -  
\- See ya in a couple, this is my address –

Kiyoomi watched him walk away thoughtfully, lingering a little too long with her gaze on that toned ass.  
She rubbed the root of her nose, exasperated by the impending migraine and all those inopportune thoughts. It was going to be a tiring evening.

*

It had all started about a month ago. Twenty-seven days, ten hours and forty-five seconds earlier. Not that she kept track - imagine, her? - she just had this predisposition to calculations and numbers that led her to mark time mechanically, analytically.

It all started on a very banal Monday.  
Kiyoomi went back to her apartment like a fury, throwing her shoes and slamming the door.

She had locked herself in her room, letting herself fall on the bed, her face buried in the pillows.  
She was used to letting other people's words slip over her, responding acidly if necessary, chasing them away with coldness and apathy.

Why then she didn’t manage to do so that day?  
Why had those words struck her so deeply that they became a worm of doubt ready to scratch what she believed to be unshakable certainties?  
The point was that that day a boy reopened an old wound that had never healed.

_“Get off your pedestal and come back to us mere mortals. Don't you think I live up to your standards? Maybe if you took a little more cock you would be less acidic. I bet you are as frigid as you are a bitch. Better this way, it would have been horrible to fuck with a mannequin.”_

She kept thinking about those mean words, spat by his classmate in front of the whole class, just because she refused to go out with him.  
What was wrong with people?  
She didn't necessarily have to feel gratified by the fact that a guy, who didn't even know her, had decided to be swaggering in front of his friends by inviting her into his bed, only to be unable to mature a refusal either.

_I’m not frigid._

Just because she didn't want to jump on the first jerk didn't mean she didn’t like to have sex.  
It was true that it was extremely complex for her to rely on someone to the point of being able to melt, it was not her fault that she had been raised with a modest mentality, but she did manage to let go.

 _And that was the problem_.

She sat up abruptly, throwing the pillow away.  
She angrily marched to her desk, turning on her laptop.

_I'll show you what this frigid girl is capable of._

She knew her reaction was childish enough, but her pride had been stung, and she felt the need to vent all that frustration.  
After digiting the url of a site, she was stunned for several minutes staring at it, suddenly all her security evaporated.

It was not the first time she watched porn but, like every time it had happened, she began to feel a sense of discomfort assaulting her when she had to choose.  
Despite recognizing her needs, pornography made her turn up her nose.

She hated how that focused primarily on the needs of a male user, or how often the videos swung between a setting from harmony romances to brutal genital clashing shots.

She couldn't stand those exaggerated expressions, those annoying sounds - she's braying, are we serious? - or those shots of bad taste, with unlikely angles.

Couldn't there be a product that concentrated on the act itself, but giving dignity and beauty to those gestures, to those bodies? A video that intrigued with its sensuality, without necessarily being vulgar, but still exciting.

She began to scroll the page listlessly, all her determination waning.  
What did she want to prove by imposing that torture? She didn't owe anyone anything.

She was about to close the site, gloomy, when suddenly something caught her attention.

Hallucinated, she put on her eyeglasses, sure that her astigmatism was tricking her.  
Instead the image through her lenses only made the unexpected preview of the video more detailed.  
A blond boy, with familiar hazel eyes, was staring at the camera, his fleshy mouth distorted into a magnetic, sensual smile. The large hands, which had so often struck her in training, were nestled between the locks of two different figures kneeling before him.

His complete nudity was purposely concealed by the presence of the two heads, which prompted the viewer to open the video, so that they could have a complete overview of that breathtaking body.

 _Atsumu was a porn actor_.

Kiyoomi stared mesmerized at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest.  
His exuberant training partner, a chronic laggard as well as quite clumsy, worked for the porn industry.

Where had he gotten that mischievous look that made her knees tremble?  
Yet he had never mentioned it.  
Not that he had to, plus how should he have said it?

'' Atsumu, how was work today? ''  
'' Pretty good, I got a scary double fellatio! ''

It was obvious that he had never mentioned it.  
Now that she thought about it, he had always remained vague when it came to the subject, providing a lot of general and poorly detailed information that could have suggested a hundred different careers.

And Kiyoomi, not inclined to chat, had never asked questions that would go deeper into the matter.  
She fixated her gaze on the screen again, her index finger moved slightly away from the mouse, undecided whether or not to open the video.  
She hesitated a few more moments. Then she closed her eyes and clicked.

From that moment everything had degenerated.  
By now she had lost count of how many times she had gone to see those videos. But undoubtedly, they were too many, given her in-depth knowledge of the boy's body.

Through those shots she had discovered how Atumu had a fox tattoo around his navel, which only made the descent of the gaze towards the pubis more sensual. His happy trail was darker than his hair, but unlike most other men in the industry, he didn't shave them.

Kiyoomi found herself imagining running her fingers through them, inhaling the smell of sex and sweat that surely would have lurked there.  
She had been fascinated by how, just before orgasm, Atsumu sank his incisors into his lower lip, wrinkling his nose, or how he always fixed his gaze on his partner's face, with such an intensity that made Kiyoomi’s stomach stir.

Kiyoomi unexpectedly discovered how arousal could hit more powerfully for details like a droplet of sweat slipping down the Adam's apple more than the mere nudity.

Sensuality, that Kiyoomi thought was represented by a harmoniously proportioned body or by the sexual act itself, had turned out to be insignificant – she found herself to be turned on more by small details such as the soft flesh of the inner thigh or an eyebrow raised in an ironic grimace.

Atsumu’s erotic charge had hit her with the force of a moving train, and now she could no longer get up off the tracks.

Kiyoomi often found herself with dry mouth and tachycardia during training because of a gesture glimpsed in a video.  
In those moments her body reacted in a Pavlovian way, making her lose contact with reality; the rubbing of her thighs against each other was a meager relief to that urgent need that made her stomach burn.

Thus led her to take refuge in the bathroom and frantically touch herself until the accumulated tension dissolved in muffled moans through the rough fabric of the kimono.  
She was shocked and afraid of the receptivity of her body and mind.  
It had never happened to her not to be able to control her instincts, to let her thoughts run free even in the least opportune moments, to be completely at the mercy of desire for someone.

And while she knew what the only way was to fix it, she kept telling herself that it was just a phase, due to some kind of hormonal disruption maybe.

But after twenty-seven days she was no longer so convinced.

*

Kiyoomi dropped to the floor, exasperated.  
Around her lay various items of clothing thrown in jumbles, in more or less unsafe piles.  
She grunted a curse through her teeth, throwing yet another shirt away. Was it possible that nothing she owned was suitable for an informal dinner?

When had she ever bought or worn that sheath dress? And why did she own so many jogging pants?  
But above all why every single item of clothing in her wardrobe was in the shade of black or dark blue?

She frowned at the full-length mirror positioned behind the door.  
With a critical eye she glimpsed at herself, looking at that so unusual, uncomfortable underwear.  
She had already tried on several suits, completely emptying the drawer, even that pair of panties and bra that long ago she had pushed to the bottom, trying to forget their existence.

The reflective surface gave her an expression of sufficiency mirroring her own.

She pulled back the lace of her panties slightly, annoyed. How could all those women in the world wear those tiny flaps of semitransparent fabric on a daily basis without having to fix them up and adjust them all the time?  
It was only five minutes that she had been wearing that outfit and she already wanted to tear it off, with all those useless laces to tighten and pull. What was the use of that balconette bra if she could hardly fill it with her tiny boobs?

Nervously, she pulled down her panties, kicking them off in anger.  
It was absurd that she was having all these problems about what to wear or not under her clothes since she would have kept them on anyway.  
She didn’t understand if Atsumu had invited her over because he felt something towards her too.  
She hated that pathetic little girl side of hers.

Stubbornly she took the most worn out and faded pair of underwear and sports bra she owned and put them on, instantly feeling at ease.  
The cotton brassiere was creased in several places, while the elastic of the panties was starting to give in at the hips, but she insisted on keeping them, more for affection than anything else.

She glanced at the time, realizing she was almost late.  
She had spent over an hour deciding what to wear, and she still had to travel to the other end of the town at rush hour.

Hastily she donned a black sports tank top with a loose sweater over it that left her collarbones and shoulders uncovered and a pair of cigarette jeans.  
She decided to style her curly hair, hopping on one foot to put on the burgundy combat boots.  
Then with breathless steps she walked towards the metro, praying not to end up squashed like a sardine among the various commuters returning home.

She arrived at Atsumu’s out of breath, but in perfect time, if slightly disheveled.  
She took a moment to settle down.

It had almost been a miracle that she hadn't come to hands with that brash, but the sour smell of his sweat lingered in her nose, as the mumbled sound of gum chewing.  
She hated buses and subways, and even more so the forced contact with the other passengers they often offered, but unfortunately that was the fastest way to travel in the city blocked by evening traffic.

To dispose of the accumulated tension, she decided to climb all twelve floors of stairs, with the result of finding herself with an annoying patina of sweat.  
She ran cold fingers behind her neck, immediately feeling relief. Then she took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and rang the bell.

She waited a full minute, but no one came to open. Behind the door she could hear the distant sound of the radio playing, a sign that someone was home.  
She nervously pushed aside a few strands that had fallen in front of her eyes, shifting her weight from foot to foot, before pressing her finger harder on the button.

She waited again, slightly pissed.  
Cursing, she rummaged in her pockets for her phone, only to realize that she left it at home in a hurry to go out.  
She gritted her teeth, increasingly pissed off now.

Control yourself, you don't want to start the evening by starting a fight, do you?

The sound of his fists against the wooden surface echoed hollowly down the hall, making her fear that some neighbor would look out, alarmed.  
The low vibration of the music stopped, leaving the apartment silent.

\- Miya open up! -  
Her angry knocking was abruptly stopped as the door swung open, her hands reaching out to strike something softer than wood.  
\- I've been waiting for ten minutes! Asshol… -  
The words died in her throat as she realized why the boy hadn't heard the doorbell.

Atsumu lingered in the doorway barefoot, a skimpy towel tight at his waist, his hair still damp from the shower.  
He smiled at her embarrassed, running a hand through his wet locks, in a familiar gesture that made Kiyoomi’s heart leap in her chest.

\- I'm sorry I didn't realize it was so late, and I didn't hear the intercom from the bathroom. Come inside and make yourself at home, I’ll be with ya in a moment –

Her ears turned red as she followed him inside.  
Atsumu escorted her beyond the entrance, and then disappeared beyond a glass door that separated the sleeping area from the rest of the apartment.

Kiyoomi looked around in amazement, wandering around the large open space, curious. That environment was very different from what she imagined, but at the same time she felt it perfectly suited Atsumu.

A small island in the center of the room, surrounded by tall red stools, formed the watershed between the modern kitchen and the living room, in which an old, smashed black sofa dominated.

A bookcase wall, in which several volumes and vinyl records lay in disordered piles, acted as a separé between the room and the entrance, while at the other end of it, the apartment opened in two large windows overlooking the skyline of the city.

The wall next to the sofa, a disturbing burgundy, was dotted with multiple black and white photographs, set in frames of different colors and sizes, to form a wacky contrast with the elegant succession of faces and landscapes imprinted in the film.

\- I took those photos -  
Kiyoomi winced hearing the other's voice directly in her ear.  
She hadn't noticed the sound of his footsteps, too busy admiring that unusual environment, which she reluctantly had to admit did not show the obvious signs of carelessness she had expected to find.

\- I didn't think you were a photography connoisseur -  
\- There are so many things about me that you are not yet aware of - Atsumu winked in her direction, heading towards the stove.

Kiyoomi held her breath, suddenly tense.

\- Like that I’m an excellent cook! -  
He approached her, handing her a goblet of wine.

Kiyoomi sighed, relieved, before bringing her lips to the glass. For a moment she feared Atsumu would reveal his work to her ...  
\- …Or the fact that I work for the porn industry –

The white wine went sideways, risking suffocating her. She found herself coughing spasmodically, her face purple, trying to catch her breath.

Atsumu barely held back a laugh, approaching to pat her on the back to make sure she was okay.

\- Sorry I just couldn't resist, you should have seen your face! -  
He laughed again, his hazel eyes beaded with tears.  
\- How long? -  
\- How long have I known ya found out? I think from day one, by the end you were the only one in the dojo who didn't know about it, and I'm good at recognizing the unspoken. I don't take pride in it, but I don't like hiding who I am, nor lying about it –

Atsumu watched her intently, making her feel slightly guilty.

Kiyoomi felt bad that Atsumu might have thought that her reluctance towards him during training was due to his work.  
It was quite the opposite in fact, but it was unthinkable to confess it to him.

\- I didn't want to force you to lie about it, I just didn't think it was worth talking about it, that's all –

His skeptical look pissed Kiyoomi off, especially at the thought of all those hours spent watching him through a screen. How could Atsumu even remotely think that those videos disgusted her?

\- Okay, I confess. I guess I didn't want to let you know that I found the videos because you would have known that I frequent certain sites -  
\- Wouldn't it have been enough to tell me that someone had told you to solve the problem? –

Atsumu burst out laughing seeing Kiyoomi’s stunned at the obvious.

\- Don't tell me you didn't think about it -  
Despite herself, she too was involved in that hilarious atmosphere, and found herself laughing at his naivety.

\- Seriously, I hope you don't mind what I do for a living, in the end it's always me -  
\- I don't see any difference, you are always the same shithead. I think your gravy is burning –

Atsumu groaned through his teeth, removing the saucepan from the stove, cursing in a low voice.

She stared at him softly, shaking her head. As much as that boy could be extremely sensual, that clumsy and awkward streak persisted and only accentuated his charm.

\- Can I ask you a question? -  
The other nodded distractedly as he fiddled with what should have been their dinner, trying to make up for the distraction.

\- How did you start doing this job? -  
She stared at him genuinely curious.

The man took his time to reply, dressing a bowl of inviting-looking fresh pasta with the sauce. After baking it, he turned his hazel gaze on her, thoughtful.

\- Let's say it happened. After high school I was very confused about what I wanted to do next, as I had no particular ambitions or talents. I was very disheartened that everyone had their goals for the future so clear, most of my former classmates had found work or started their college careers, while I was still standing there wondering what I wanted to do when I grew up.  
So, I started answering as many job postings as possible, more to stop idle than anything else, but none of them seemed to suit me: either I didn't have enough qualifications, or I lacked motivation, or I wasn’t convincing at the selection interviews.  
Until I stumbled upon this world. At the interview they were immediately interested and available, and they made me do an audition directly to assess if I was what they were looking for.  
No story of talent discovered by amateur videos on the net, but only a serious agency that carries out a targeted selection. And despite the initial doubts I can say that I really like my job, even if not for the reasons that everyone imagines –

Kiyoomi watched him, rapt.  
She could perfectly imagine a confused and awkward eighteen-year-old Atsumu, facing his new job with commitment and determination.  
\- Are they constantly asking you what it's like to have sex with such women? –

\- Tirelessly. And it is useless to say that in doing it I practically feel nothing because it is my job, they don't believe it anyway.  
They continue to think of me as the luckiest man in the world, without even knowing the behind the scenes. I can assure you that having a guy shine a light on your genitals for the duration of the intercourse doesn't make it particularly sensual –

\- I don't know how you can resist the pressure. I would die to know that anyone I know may have seen me having sex, I would feel exposed -  
\- It is not so much being seen naked or in certain attitudes, you get used to that, it is more than anything else that often something is missing in my relationships. The women I have been approached by in recent years, had enormous expectations of me, as if I was some kind of sex machine, and after they '' tried the goods '' and got what they wanted they would disappear.  
I assure you that it is commonplace to think that this type of behavior is a male prerogative, I have tried it on my skin. I would like to go out with someone because they care who I am, and not because they want to evaluate if my penis is really that big –

Kiyoomi felt guilty on hearing that confession. In the last month she hadn't behaved so differently from those women who had used Atsumu, drooling and fantasizing about his body, without in the least considering that she had no right to do so.

The boy seemed to notice her discomfort, because he returned to his usual carefree tone.  
\- Don't make that face Sakusa, it’s really as big as it looks –

Kiyomi stared at him with a murderous look, immediately regretting having felt guilty for such a braggart.  
\- At least as much as your ego -  
\- But you weren't here for some repetition on disarmament techniques? You finally seem in the mood to deliver on your promise of getting my ass down -  
He winked in her direction, moving to the carpet in the living room, gesturing for her to get underneath.

Kyomi approached with an amused look, lips curled in a sarcastic smile; she took off his combat boots and stockings, sinking her feet into the soft fabric.

They began to circle cautiously, studying each other. Despite the tension given by the anticipation of the fight, the girl could not help but notice how sensual Atsumu was even in his home outfit.

The large baggy jumpsuit fell low on his waist, revealing the hips and the line of hair that ran down from the navel to the pubis.

Kiyoomi fixed her gaze on the other's face, trying not to get distracted.  
Atsumu suddenly jerked forward, trying to grab her; anticipating his movement, Kiyoomi dodged sideways, grabbing him by the forearm and throwing him forward, then throwing him to the ground.  
The boy rolled forward on the carpet, cushioning the fall.

Kiyomi was smiling smugly in his direction when she felt the ground fail under her feet, and she found herself tumbling to the floor as well. She crashed into something far softer than the ground, something giggling smugly beneath her.  
\- What are you laughing at? –

She pushed a hand in Atsumu’s face, annoyed by that forced proximity, trying to raise herself on her elbows. A weight on her back pushed her down again, causing her to collapse onto the other.  
He felt the touch of Atsumu’s fingers along the vertebrae as if they were incandescent, her senses had suddenly intensified.

Trapped against the boy's chest, she could clearly hear the steady beating of his heart and the shortness of breath from laughter, as well as the light fragrance of the shampoo on his damp hair.  
Kiyoomi’s eyes wandered along the soft line of the cheekbones, dwelling on the dimples on the sides of the mouth and on the slightly flattened nose; she also noticed for the first time that Atsumu had a faded scar on his lower lip.

Without even realizing it, Kiyoomi found herself following the contours if it with her fingertips, fascinated, too focused on that detail to notice how the laughter had stopped, replaced by an electric silence.

Atsumu, underneath her, sighed, increasing his grip on her back.

He was captivated by those dark irises that were scrutinizing him intently, and for the first time he read something other than the usual sarcastic or determined look, something that made him shiver with expectation: desire.

His eyes widened slightly, amazed.  
He was not blind, he knew how attractive Kiyoomi was, how her elegant features and slender build made men turn around as she passed; but Atsumu could have never imagined that those usually serious, inscrutable eyes had the power to pin him in place, making his heart flutter in his chest.

He wanted to touch her.

This unexpected thought hit him with arrogance, displacing him.

He had never thought about his training partner from that point of view.  
Sure, he had always been intrigued by her strong personality and brusque manner, but he had never thought of Kiyoomi like that; he had been blinded by her strength and determination, her intelligence and her subtle sarcasm, never pausing to think about her femininity, the bubbling sensual charge beneath that controlled facade.

He had always liked Kiyoomi, but he had never thought about the implications of this attraction, sure he would not be reciprocated.

He felt her thin fingers moving along his face, up to go to outline the contours of his lips, lingering on the cupid's bow, and exerting a slight pressure on it, to which he responded by opening them.  
Kiyoomi leaned forward, magnetized by the erotic charge of those lips shiny with saliva, swallowing empty.

When she finally reduced the distance, taking possession of that long-desired mouth, she let himself go to a sound of relief; she had imagined that moment for so long that she felt like a thirsty man in the middle of the desert who, exhausted, drinks from the long-awaited oasis.

Atsumu responded with impetus to the kiss, making their bodies adhere more, feeling the girl's tense muscle bundles under his fingers.

Kiyoomi pounced on him ravenously, deepening the kiss, making the hot tongues collide, biting and sucking Atsumu’s reddened lips.

Atsumu gave in to a hoarse moan when Kiyoomi grabbed his short blond hair to make him rotate his head and sink her tongue into the auricle, gently holding the earlobe between her teeth.

A shiver ran through her body as she moved her mouth from Atsumu’s ear to his throat, continuing to imprint the shape of her teeth on the throbbing flesh.

Kiyoomi felt the excitement mount uncontrolled, Atsumu’s erection was already pressing on her thigh, she could feel the mad heartbeat in her eardrums.

She moved her pelvis a little, to relieve that urgent need by moving her hips, rutting against Atsumu’s figure.  
She felt Atsumu indulging her in that frantic sway, his hands squeezing her buttocks with arrogance.

Kiyoomi gasped when Atsumu lifted her to pin her down, trapping her between the carpet and his sweaty body.  
Atsumu rose to his knees, pulling his shirt off over his head.  
Kiyoomi found herself staring at those sculpted abs and broad shoulders with a dry throat, gazing in amazement at the small silver ring peeking out from his left nipple.  
\- I didn't know you had a piercing -  
\- When I work I don't wear it –

Atsumu pushed her back, causing her to lie down completely, smothering her reply with a long kiss.  
He ran his hands over her body, touching her breasts from above her clothes, pinching them; then he pulled off her sweater and tank top with a single movement, pausing to look amused at her bra.

\- What are you laughing at? You are creepy -  
\- Sorry. Ya just didn't look like a bra girl to me, I figured you weren't wearing it at all -  
Kiyoomi wrinkled her nose, slightly offended.  
\- You mean I have small boobs? –

Atsumu ran his fingers along with the brassiere, pulling aside the elastic, passing his fingertip over the areola of the pink nipple.  
\- Actually, I would have said perfect -  
He blew those words directly onto her flesh, before running his tongue over her breast, sucking gently.

Kiyoomi arched her back, shivering with pleasure.  
Atsumu went down with his mouth along the belly, leaving a hot trail as he passed. He paused to caress her hips, before undoing the button of her high-waisted jeans, pulling them off.  
Atsumu’s face approached with grueling slowness to her crotch, making her shiver with expectation.

It had been so long since Kiyoomi felt such intense sensation since that time ...

She sat up abruptly, moving away from the other.  
Atsumu looked at her in amazement, his lips still parted.  
He straightened on his heels, running a hand to ruffle the short hair behind his neck, taut.  
\- Sorry maybe I ran too much, but it seemed to me that you ... -  
\- You have nothing to apologize for –

Kiyoomi leaned forward, touching his dick from above the soft fabric of the suit, smiling reassuringly.  
She hoped that the other did not notice the trembling of her hands, or the broken tone of his voice.  
For a moment she panicked again at the memory of that time, but luckily, she was able to regain control immediately.

Kiyoomi really wanted Atsumu, she wasn't going to allow her insecurities to hold her back again.  
She just needed to keep Atsumu’s face away from her underwear and everything would be fine.  
It was so well known that boys reluctantly practiced oral sex preferring to receive it, so she had nothing to fear.

Kiyoomi moved her hand along the erection of the other, the previous arousal a little bit subsided. She forced herself to stay focused, trying to recapture the sensations she felt.

She pulled down the waistband of his pants, pulling out Atsumu’s cock.  
Kiyoomi swallowed empty seeing it, being able to touch him, after all that time spent observing it through a screen.  
She was so focused didn't notice Atsumu’s worried look.  
Kiyoomi’s panic hadn't gone unnoticed to Atsumu, nor the effort she made to maintain that facade of security, so different from the spontaneous excitement of just before.

He really liked Kiyoomi, right from the first workout together, and he wasn't going to ruin their relationship with sex. Precisely for this reason he had never tried with her before, because, despite the attraction towards her, their strange friendship had always taken precedence over everything else.  
He decided to make another attempt, to see if he had figured it all out.  
He gently moved her hand away, making her stand up; then, still sitting on his heels, he brought his face closer to his inner thigh, placing his lips on it.  
He immediately felt the girl stiffen.  
Atsumu raised his eyes to her face and had confirmation of his fears.

Kiyoomi had her eyes closed and her lips pursed, an expression of restrained discomfort, far from excited.

Atsumu pulled back in resignation, sighing. The girl stayed a few seconds with her eyes closed, before noticing how the other had sat cross-legged at a certain distance from her, his face contracted into a serious expression so different from his usual warm smile.

Kiyoomi sat down on the floor, her back against the sofa. Atsumu readjusted his pants before handing her his hoodie, which she gratefully put on.

\- I don't know what you think about me, but I don't usually force people to have sex. I'm sorry if I went too far, but you don't have to pretend you like it if you don't want it –

Kiyoomi bit her cheek, lowering her eyes.  
She noted that she once again managed to ruin everything, making the other feel guilty for a situation far beyond her control.  
If only Atsumu had known how much she wanted it ...

\- I didn't pretend I liked it - she affirmed confidently, raising her eyes to him again - I have wanted this moment for so long that I still don't believe it -  
She blushed as she made that confession, marveling at the ease with which for once she had managed to put pride aside.  
\- I like you, really ... -  
\- But? -  
\- But I'm not good at all of this, I can't handle certain things, it's stronger than me. I ... I have had bad experiences in the past, and I feel I have a limit beyond which I can no longer go. It's not your fault, it's that I'm frigid. –

Why couldn't she let herself go as calmly as all girls? Why did she have to feel bad? She pulled the hood over her head, resting her forehead on the knees gathered to her chest.  
Kiyoomi hated to expose herself, to feel so vulnerable, at the mercy of events without being able to be in control of them.

\- I don't think you're frigid, quite the opposite! I don't know what your problem has been in the past, and I don't even want to know if you don’t want to talk about it. I like you, and I honestly didn't even expect you to be interested in me, let alone all this. Let's put a stone on it and start over, ‘kay? –

He gently pulled the fabric away from her face, smiling reassuringly.  
Kiyoomi stared into that warm hazel eyes, so different from the disgusted that boy from the past.

She took a deep breath, finally convinced. Atsumu had been honest with her, telling her about his work and problems without any hesitation.  
Suddenly she felt the need to repay that trust, letting him understand.

Collecting all the courage she possessed, and silencing the screaming voice of pride, she stammered dryly.  
\- I _squirt_ –

She held Atsumu’s gaze, with determined tenacity despite dying inside.  
The guy stared at her for a few moments with blank eyes, before proclaiming a lapidary  
\- So, what? –  
He smiled amused, raising his eyebrows upwards.  
\- Don’t get me wrong, I find it extremely exciting, but what does this have to do with your reluctance towards me? -  
\- Doesn't that disgust you? -  
Atsumu sensed from her tone how much it costed her to expose herself like this, how much she was struggling to maintain that faux-bold facade.

\- Why should it? Female ejaculation is a natural phenomenon, just like male ejaculation. I work in this area, do I look like someone who can be impressed by something like this? If I've had another man's sperm on me, I can deal with anything else with no problem –

He laughed at Kiyoomi’s bewildered, relieved expression.  
For a moment he had thought of something much more serious...

He approached the girl, pulling her against him and squeezing her tightly in his arms.  
Kiyoomi dropped her head on Atsumu’s chest, hiding her distressed expression.  
\- The first time this happened was during my only oral sex experience. I will never forget the disgusted expression of that boy, nor the sense of humiliation felt. For once I'd lost control, letting go, the consequences had been dire. So, I decided I would never let anyone make me feel like this again –

If she thought about how many years she had been disgusted by her own body, without being able to understand that she wasn’t the inadequate one...

\- I'm sorry to say that but he was a real jerk! Who knows how much he ate his hands later in realizing how stupid it was to let a girl like you escape -  
\- Don't be a pimp! -  
\- I got aroused again just at the thought of your expression during your orgasm, and that asshole dares to tell you it's disgusting! -

Kiyoomi threw a playful punch in Atsumu’s pec, stifling a laugh on his chest.  
Atsumu leaned towards her and grabbed her chin, lifting her face.  
Then with a look full of unspoken, he kissed her, in a less frantic, more intense way.  
\- Let me show you how much you don't disgust me -  
He whispered those words directly into her ear, his voice hoarse with excitement.  
She stared at Atsumu for a moment, before nodding, all doubts and uncertainties pulverized by that liquid gaze.

He lifted her easily, laying her on the sofa, then kneeling on the floor.  
He smiled at her mischievously, before opening her thighs.  
He looked excitedly at the pale flesh of that part of the body, feeling the urge to sink his teeth into it and mark it. He looked away with difficulty from that point, concentrating on Kiyoomi’s tense expression.  
Atsumu took Kiyoomi’s foot in his hands, starting to massage it, feeling the muscle tension slowly give way under the touch of his fingers.  
He then ran his lips along the ankle, going up the calf, tickling the back of the knee with his tongue, lingering there to suck the softer flesh of the inner thigh.

He felt Kiyoomi shudder under his attentions, her breathing became irregular again, her expression finally relaxed.  
Atsumu brushed her clitoris through the fabric of the underwear, touching it with circular movements of the fingertips, feeling the fabric instantly moisten.

Atsumu lifted his gaze on the girl's face, focusing on her reactions to his touch, trying to figure out what stimulated her the most.  
When he felt that her fluids had soaked the panties, he brought his lips to them, pressing them firmly, tearing the first real moan from the girl.

Then he slowly slipped them off, a jolt of excitement running through his spine at the sight of the small parted lips.  
Noticing the tension reappears Kiyoomi’s expression, Atsumu went up with his hands under the large sweatshirt, teasing her sensitive nipples, ripping out a second strangled moan.

He lowered his face again, bringing his lips to open the vulva. He began to move them on the bare flesh, first gently, then with greater insistence, teasing the clitoral glans with his tongue.

He smiled, pleased to hear that lewd sounds leave Kiyoomi’s mouth uncontrolled, her white teeth sunk into her lower lip, as if to contain herself.  
Atsumu raised his hand towards Kiyoomi’s pussy, moistening his fingers with the abundant fluids, before inserting the index and middle fingers inside it with a rotating movement, pushing gently. Then he brought his thumb to the clitoris, interspersing the stimulations of the fingertip with those of the tongue, without interrupting the penetration of the fingers.

Kiyoomi was shattered by jolts of pleasure that, starting from the loins, went up the back, to the base of the neck, causing her goosebumps.  
She could hear herself groan indistinctly, the sound of her sighs muffled by the sleeve of the sweatshirt pressed against her lips in an attempt to hide how much she was affected.  
The vision of Atsumu’s blonde mop moving between her parted legs, the feel of his fingers inside her, his voracious tongue, were making her completely lose control.  
Kiyoomi felt the orgasm mount with arrogance, in ever more intense waves, the fear and embarrassment for the reactions of her body relegated to a forgotten corner of her brain, completely clouded by the eroticism of those eyes fixated on her.  
She squeezed a few golden locks in her hands, trying to push the other's face away for a moment of respite, a gesture that achieved the opposite result, given how vigorously Atsumu pushed himself towards her.  
He moved her eyes to the boy's other hand, which was moving fast in his sweatpants, causing him to emit muffled moans between Kiyoomi’s thighs.  
That sight, coupled with the intense stimulation, quickly brought Kiyoomi to climax.  
A sudden tension shook her abs, causing her to clench her fists and curl her toes in the intensity of the jolt of pleasure.  
Kiyoomi convulsively gasped in search of oxygen, unable to make a sound, while that need to release the pelvic muscles became more and more intense, urgent, under the unstoppable rise of orgasm.  
He watched Atsumu’s hand move faster and faster, until he came between his fingers, the echo of Kiyoomi’s name suffocated between her thighs.

Kiyoomi let out a liberating moan when she finally came, the chirp of the oven timer covering her voice, announcing the ecstasy of the moment with perfect timing. Her body gasped exhausted in the rhythmic contraction and relaxation of the vaginal muscles, and the consequent release of fluids, which poured copiously down her legs.

The girl slumped against the back of the sofa, her heart beating madly in her chest.  
With a mixture of embarrassment and admiration she watched Atsumu lick his lips and fingers, smiling smugly.  
\- How about eating? This first course has incredibly stimulated my appetite -  
Kiyoomi rolled her eyes, exasperated by the boy's idiocy.  
\- Only if I can have dessert later –

Atsumu stared at her dazed for a moment, before blushing up to the tips of his ears as he understood the implications in the words of his training partner.

 _Cute_.


End file.
